


Pratfalls and Snowballs

by freudensteins_monster



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Party, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), F/M, Gen, Prank Wars, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Tumblr Prompt, i don't remember writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23116372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freudensteins_monster/pseuds/freudensteins_monster
Summary: anonymous  asked:I wish you would write a fic where Loki and Sigyn try to one-up each other pranking Thor, Valkyrie and the Avengers while on Earth. (Thanks, and Happy New Year! xoxo)
Relationships: Loki/Sigyn (Marvel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Pratfalls and Snowballs

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Anon, I know you probably don’t remember sending me this ask, considering you sent it on New Years Day - two years ago - but better later than never, right? 
> 
> (Set post-Ragnarok, minus Thanos)

Loki’s return to Earth had not exactly been celebrated, but the Avengers needed him on an upcoming mission so his presence was tolerated. Eventually they reached the end of their patience and so he was sent to annoy Doctor Strange at the New York Sanctum. He had to begrudgingly admit that their collection of magical knowledge and artifacts was impressive, though it paled in comparison to Asgard’s. And didn’t he feel that loss keenly? He’d managed to squirrel away almost a hundred of his most treasured volumes into his personal pocket dimension during his all to brief reign as king but there were hundreds of thousands more that had been lost to the fires of Ragnarok.

The Sanctum also held another mysterious treasure.

“Sigyn? Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” Loki replied with disinterest, not bothering to raise his eyes from his latest book.

“It should,” Strange smirked. “She’s your wife reincarnated.”

At that Loki deigned to raise his eyes, flitting from the irritating Strange to the mortified initiate beside him. She was fair of face and hair, the latter pulled back in elaborate braids that fell down to her shoulder blades, and she wore thick gloves on her hands in addition to the standard burgundy garb of any initiate of Kamar-Taj.

“Is this a reference to your lurid mythologies?” Loki drawled. “Because in truth I have never taken a wife. Though if you wish me to take her off your hands I would require a substantial dowry, say the Axe of Angarrumus? I received Thor’s name in Stark’s winter solstice gift giving game and such a weapon would mean I don’t have to lower myself to visiting one of Midgard’s marketplaces.”

Rather than reply Strange huffed with irritation and flounced out of the room (the sorcerer may have just turned, the Cape of Levitation did all the flouncing). The woman gave him a curt bow before disappearing into the rows of shelving, and Loki would have forgotten all about her the moment she was gone from his sight if Strange hadn’t screamed his name as he stormed back into the library less than a minute later.

Loki laughed. He couldn’t help it. The Sorcerer Supreme was standing in the middle of the room, his dark blue robes now emerald green and his famed cloak a blinding gold, as his face turned an interesting shade of red. It was the best thing he’d seen since the Hulk had thrown Thor around like a ragdoll in the arena.

“What? It wasn’t me,” Loki argued as Strange continued to glare at him after he’d been able to stop laughing.

With one flick of his wrists the sorcerer changed his robes back to their original hue and with another he cut the legs off Loki’s chair, causing the Asgardian to fall on his ass with a thud.

Loki was dusting himself off when the woman, Sigyn, reappeared, a heavy tome in her arms and a small smile playing on her lips.

“It was nice to meet you,” she said in lightly accented English before leaving the room via a portal she’d conjured.

Loki stared at the space she had occupied for a long minute before smiling to himself, “Interesting.”

In the days leading up to the Midgard winter solstice celebrations Loki thought of the curious Sigyn often, and though he frequented the Sanctum he had not seen her again, and dared not ask Strange as to her whereabouts and give away his interest. In the end she came to him, arriving via a portal on the balcony of Stark’s tower along with Strange and two other sorcerers, a hour late for Stark’s Christmas party.

Since they had last crossed paths Sigyn had apparently completed her training, having exchanged her initiate robes for more formal ones of grey overlayed with a dark purple sleeveless coat with silver embroidery. She still wore gloves the same shade as her robes, and toyed nervously with the bindings. Stark was being his obnoxious self as he introduced the sorcerers to the rest of the superheroes, scientists, and obligatory celebrities gathered on the 68th floor, and just as Loki was sure that Strange was about to push Stark through a portal to the far reaches of the universe, the Man of Iron was distracted by his AI system introducing the newest arrivals to step off the elevator – in Latin. Their host sufficiently distracted, the sorcerers began to mingle (Strange making for one Jane Foster, the next smartest person in the room, much to Thor’s thinly veiled annoyance), and Loki made his way over to Sigyn.

“That was a nice trick.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied automatically as she took a glass of something bubbly from a passing waiter.

“Of course you don’t,” Loki smiled. “Just as I have no idea what’s going on over there,” he said, pointing to the bar where Valkyrie was trying drink after drink, growing more frustrated as each turned to water on her tongue.

Sigyn stifled a laugh before gazing around the room in search of her next target. The slight twitching of her fingers was the only indication that she had made her play and it was a few minutes before Loki understood what it was. There was a small commotion across the room and the man out of time stumbled away from a group of overly affectionate debutantes, a sprig of mistletoe followed him. If he stayed in one place for longer than five seconds the mistletoe hovered over his head and the people closest to him felt compelled to kiss him. It resulted in the good captain running laps of the room as he cursed Stark for inventing some sort of mistletoe drone.

As the party guests laughed Sigyn raised an eyebrow in challenge but before Loki could contemplate his next move a loud slap rang out. All eyes turned to find Doctor Strange getting chewed out by Doctor Foster before the petite brunette stormed off.

Sigyn gasped. “What did you do?”

“It wasn’t me. It seems as though the Sorcerer Supreme is fully capable of making an ass out of himself without my assistance.”

They watched as Thor made to follow Doctor Foster and the moment he caught up with her Loki sliced the air with his arm, sending the former lovers flying into a storage closet at the end of the hall. He immediately sealed the room – no one would be able to hear their cries for aid and for all Thor’s strength he would not be able to break out of the room before dawn’s first light hit the tower.

“Really?” Sigyn scoffed.

“They have been tiptoeing around each other for weeks. It’s been painful to watch. One way or another it ends tonight.”

“Fair enough,” she mused as her sharp gazed scanned the room. With a sly smile she ran a finger around the rim of her glass and half the room fell silent before finding themselves singing a rather passionate rendition of “Santa Claus is Comin’ To Town”.

Loki barely had a moment to enjoy the confusion before he felt a sharp pinch between his ribs.

“That’s enough,” the widow commanded, pressing a blade so hard against his side it pierced through his leather vestments.

Before Loki could proclaim his innocence Sigyn took a sip from her glass and the chaos fizzled out into confused laughter and the sounds of drinks being topped up. Loki breathed a sigh of relief as the blade was removed from his side.

“If you can’t behave yourself it might be better for your health if you retired for the evening,” the widow suggested before rejoining her friends.

“Haha,” Sigyn chortled into her drink. “You lose.”

“How so?”

“You got caught,” Sigyn replied as though it were obvious.

“But it wasn’t my trick.”

“It still counts.”

“It does not!”

“It does too!”

In a fit of frustration, and in an effort to best his sparring partner, Loki threw a glamour over Sigyn, ridding her of her robes and dressing her in a glittering golden gown similar to those he had seen a few models in attendance wearing. The figure-hugging gown was quite alluring on her, as was the amount of exposed flesh, until one got to her now glove-free hands which were misshapen with leathery scars. Sigyn dropped her champagne glass with an anguished scream when she realised what Loki had done, angry tears filling her eyes when she felt the room staring at her. She turned on her heel and summoned a portal with her sling ring, disappearing in a shower of sparks.

“What did you do?” Strange sighed irritably as he appeared at Loki’s side.

“I may have taken things a step too far,” Loki conceded.

“You don’t say.”

“Is there any way to follow her?”

With another put upon sigh, Strange summoned a portal for him.

“If my favourite student doesn’t come back, neither should you,” Strange warned before shoving him through.

The portal closed and Loki found himself face first in the snow. He righted himself and in the grey light he was able to follow Sigyn’s footprints towards a church and the cemetery behind it. He found her seated before a headstone once again dressed in her in grey and purple robes. Her gloves were lying on the ground beside her and her misshapen hands sat in her lap. Loki approached cautiously and when she failed to attack him he sat down next to her, joining Sigyn in staring silently at the headstone of one Marta Magnusson.

“Most days I can forget about them,” she said without preamble, turning her scarred hands this way and that. “But then someone will comment on my gloves and I remember it anew. If I don’t wear them I have to put up with looks of disgust or pity. I’m not sure which is worse.”

“…How did it happen?”

“When I was but a child my father threw me into the fireplace during one of his drunken rages, pushed me down by the heel of his boot, my little hands pushing back against the burning logs as flames licked my face. It felt like hours of agony but my mother assured me it was only seconds, either way the damage was done. Recovery was almost as painful, and whenever I cried about it my mother would wipe away my tears and say, “Women are defined by what they can endure, little Sigyn, so it is in all the great stories, and you are far too strong to give up now.”

She fell silent then, content to ignore her companion in favour of losing herself to long buried memories. It stretched on long enough to make Loki fidget, a dozen empty platitude dying on his silver tongue.

“I’m not showing you mine,” he muttered, just loud enough to draw Sigyn’s attention.

“Hmm?”

“I’m not showing you my scars so you’ll think us even,” he bit out petulantly. “Just know that I have them. Also,” he added with a belligerent sigh, “I’m sorry for bringing yours to light the way I did. It was cruel.”

She accepted his apology with a brief nod but made no move to bury her past once more and leave the frozen cemetery. Loki sighed again, cursing his newfound sentimentality, and outstretched a hand towards the headstone. Within minutes an ice sculpture formed behind it in the shape of a mother embracing her child. The child may have resembled Sigyn but, Loki realised too late, the mother was most definitely Frigga.

Sigyn’s eyes lit up in appreciation but as she turned to Loki her smiled faded. Loki followed her gaze to his outstretched hand, now azure blue. Chastened, he gave it frustrated shake as though his true heritage was something he could easily rid himself of. He crossed his arms to hide it from view until it returned to his prefer shade and avoided meeting her eyes.

“Can you only manipulate ice?” she asked, surprising Loki.

“What?”

“Is it only ice you can create?” she repeated, smiling as her eyes drifted skyward to the flurries of snowflakes that drifted past on the wind.

Loki, sensing mischief, smiled back. “What did you have in mind?”

The karaoke portion of Stark’s Christmas party was due to begin, but as the host took the stage a blizzard developed out of thin air, pouring in from the balcony and blanketing the room with snow. Panicked and freezing guests sought to escape it but where met with icy gales that pushed them back from the elevators and stairwells.

It disappeared as quickly as it came but left the entire floor covered in two feet of snow. Stark was the first to regain his senses, but before he could call for Loki’s head his own was struck with an icy projectile. He turned on the spot to find the Sorcerer Supreme smirking back at him, his cocky cloak dusting snow off whatever its equivalent to hands were.

“Oh, it’s on now, Strange.”

Loki hoisted himself up onto the bar and helped himself to an abandoned glass of champagne, laughing at the chaos before him as dozens of enhanced individuals engaged in an all-out snowball war. Sigyn joined him moments later after quickly forming a portal with her sling ring to divert a wayward snowball down the back of Wong’s robes.

Loki beamed at his partner in mischief and pushed a drink into her gloved hand. “To what doesn’t kill us,” he toasted.

Sigyn laughed and clinked her glass against his. “May it always make us a riot at parties.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not that i can actually remember writing any of this, but reading it back i'm pretty sure Sigyn was inspired in part by Riley Blue (Sense8) and Lagertha (Vikings). 
> 
> And no, I don't remember why I gave her scarred up hands when Strange has scarred up hands. Perhaps that shared pain is why she's his favourite student?


End file.
